


In my life (I loved you more)

by LydeNicoKITE



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Booker is the last of a family of politicians, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, I don't care about royals irl so who cares if this is accurate, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nile is the first daughter, Non-Chronological, Pining, Quynh is an Olympic champion, Team as Family, also Andy and Lyon are royalty, alternative universe, both Nicky and Joe are princes, but this is very light and happy, there will be a little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydeNicoKITE/pseuds/LydeNicoKITE
Summary: ''It took this group of royals and friends less than ten minutes to surprise me. They weren't Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Prince of Tunisia, Princess Andromache 'the Scythian', Prince Nicolò [...] anymore: suddenly I was speaking to Andy and her wife Quynh, to 'Booker' and Lykon, to Nile, and to the couple that made the world fall in love with the idea of love all over again, Nicky and Joe. [...]When asked about his feelings about the upcoming royal wedding, which promises to be the event of the year, Nicolò admitted, with a candid sincerity that is so often lacking in that environment: 'To be quite honest, I am just glad to be able to marry Yusuf, the love of my life, with our families and closest friends. It is more than I probably deserve. Everything else is secondary.' [...]''- from the article by James Copley, 'Maybe the world still needs royals: how the new generation is changing the game', published on the New York Times in May, 20**
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 63
Kudos: 244





	1. Prologue: Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to this super indulgent AU. As some of you may know, I originally posted the first three chapters on tumblr, where you can always drop by to say hello, I'm ready to scream about this movie and/or this AU with you. (I'm @nicolodigenovas, aka Lyde.)
> 
> This is for everyone who commented under those three chapters on tumblr or sent me an ask, asking for more. You make my days happier.

“It’s not like us to spend an evening like this without talking, Nicolò.”

There he is. Nicolò turns around, and Yusuf is standing by the balcony beside him, more real than any dream Nicolò has ever had about him since the last time they saw each other. The night is clear, the full moon lights up Yusuf’s eyes and softens his features. He looks like a prince. He _is_ a prince, but so is Nicolò: nowadays, royal blood isn’t really a guarantee of worthiness of the crown.

“I know. But you were busy, I couldn’t distract you just because I wished to spend time in your company.”

It’s always like this at first. Stilted words, curious glances: they see each other once a year, less since Yusuf started taking up more duties from his mother. When they meet again, they need to relearn each other’s faces, voices, their boundaries are momentarily written in water.

Nicolò wants to take what separates them —geography, history, responsibilities — and throw it off the balcony. He looks at Yusuf and for once he’s not afraid his eyes tell too much. He’s not one who speaks much about his heart and thoughts, but he knows Yusuf can read his eyes, his smile and the tired line of his shoulder and read a novel of words he cannot say out loud.

Yusuf looks back. It’s unfair how Yusuf’s eyes make him feel more alive than anything else in the world, more than anybody else —Nicolò tried to forget. It’s just impossible. He’s not strong enough.

Yusuf is waiting for him to say something. Maybe something about their kiss in Malta. To think that Nicolò didn’t want to go to a small event like that, that he didn’t know that Yusuf would be there… his life could have been so different. Or maybe not. Yusuf is close to him, Nicolò can see in the corner of his eye Yusuf’s curls, his beautiful suit, the discreet rainbow pin that’s hidden but there like always. Nicolò can’t imagine a world where they look at each other and Nicky doesn’t feel the urge to take Yusuf’s face between his hands and kiss him once, twice, every day for a millennium.

“I wanted to call you.” Nicky admits. The words hang heavy in the air. They texted every few days for months, but calls always felt too real. Too close.

“I wanted to take your hand and bring you out here the moment I saw you tonight.”

Nicky can’t pretend look at the night sky anymore. He turns and Yusuf’s face is so close— Nicky is the one who initiates the kiss.

It’s sweet and short and feels like the promise of a lifetime.

_Oh, stars, I know I am lucky. Stars, I know I don’t deserve him. God, let me have this._

Yusuf is shaken. He is surprised, maybe it’s Nicolò’s imagination but his eyes are wide and amazed. Yusuf has always looked at Nicky like he could see something nobody else ever managed to find. Something worthy of love.

Nicolò takes a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. This is so bad. This is so dangerous. What if someone saw them, what if someone took a photo. What happens if Yusuf is already engaged? It’s not the first time these things have happened in secret before the press and the other countries were updated on the matter.

“I am so sorry. God, Yusuf, I am a fool—“

“Nicky.” People rarely call him that, not now that he’s supposed to be a political figure.

“Nicky, I can’t kiss you right now, but believe me. I have dreamt of the day I will be able to see you every day, and kiss you, and hold you, and walk with you running away from photographers under the rain like we did in Paris, for years.”

Nicky can’t help the small laugh that escapes his lips. They’re both looking in front of them now, like they’re discussing the neat lines of the Italian gardens that stretch out under the balcony, like Nicky’s heart is not beating furiously like his chest is too small to hold his love for Yusuf.

“I want to marry you and even deal with your parents if it means keeping you. I want holidays where you get sunburnt and cook dinner, where we go for an excursion and we get lost because your internal gps sucks.”

“I want to fuck you.” is what Nicky says, because he is three years younger and some thoughts have been rotting his brain for months non stop. Yusuf makes a strangled noise.

“Well, that too.”

“But I want those things you said. I want it all.”

Their hands are touching. They turn to watch the couples dancing, the diplomats discussing idly in small groups, the crystal chandeliers, Yusuf’s parents and little brother, Nicolò’s sister speaking confidently to a group of admirers. Nicky doesn’t really see those things, though. He is trying not to smile. _Their hands are touching._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next two chapters soon, or you can read them on tumblr if you really can't wait ;)  
> A special thank you goes to those who commented or left kudos on my Youtube!Au. I read all the comments multiple times and I couldn't stop smiling <3  
> Baci,  
> Lyde


	2. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ''... [I want to] walk with you running away from photographers under the rain like we did in Paris.''
> 
> This is the true beginning of our story, set two years before the balcony scene. I hope you like it! Enjoy Pining!Nicky and more royals making their appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for all the lovely people who commented on the first chapter and on tumblr. I had exams so I couldn't answer your nice comments, but I hope you'll like where this story is going.

###  **CHAPTER 1 - _PARIS_**

“Whose idea it was to do this anyway?” Nicolò asks, looking at his reflection with growing irritation. This is what happens when there’s always someone ready to fix your clothes: you get to 18 years of age and you still don’t know how to tie a tie.

“Mine!” says Lu, because of course it was hers. And of course she admits her hand in all of this with a smile that she directs to the mirror as she passes behind Nicky. Lu, Lucia, future Queen of the Italian kingdom, is not the one who cowers in front of her brother’s rage. They have the same eyes, but if Nicky’s are usually covered by sunglasses in front of the cameras, Lu’s are unafraid, always staring right into the camera lenses. She is currently fixing her eyeliner, even if there would be people paid to do it. Nicky is not allowed to choose what to wear in official gatherings, while their mother still trusts Lu’s taste. Her deep blue dress, with that low neckline and the matching earrings, makes her look amazing.

Nicky looks in the mirror and finds the ever present dark circles under his eyes, making him look like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown, a grey shirt that’s been approved by Lu but makes him look like a young accountant, and no earrings. Apparently he fought to have his ears pierced, and succeeded, only to be told he can’t wear earrings if not in the solitude of his room(s).

“Do we have to be elegant? It’s private!”

“We’re going out, with Seb and some of our friends. Of course we have to be elegant, there will be strangers taking pictures.”

“You said a moment ago it would be private!”

Lu emerges from the bathroom, high heeled shoes in her hand like a weapon ready to be thrown in Nicky’s face. It’s actually Lu’s way of being: she always looks like she’s ready to fight. People also say that Nicky never looks angry, this means he always does. When they take pictures, though, Lu is always smiling, her fire hidden from the cameras, while Nicky has the expression of someone who wants to overthrow the monarchy. (Apparently it’s good for his approval ratings.)

“Nicky, it’s your birthday.”

“It was a month ago, we celebrated!”

“That boring ass dinner is not celebrating, live a little! And put some shoes on, my friends are coming soon.”

Nicky groans in frustration, tie still in his hands. Wait—

“Do I _have to_ wear a tie?”

“You look good with that one, come on!”

_Don’t be a baby_ , Lu’s silence means.

Nicky finds a pair of shoes that are not the same model his grandfather used to wear —a miracle, really— and again he marvels at the mere existence of Lu’s flat. How did she manage to convince their parents, he’ll never know. The flat is small, close to all the touristic attractions Nicky has never had the time to properly visit, and Booker bought the one in front of hers. They spend days and nights together, Lu and Booker, studying and partying and avoiding responsibilities. Nicky is slightly jealous he is not three years older like them.

He doesn’t hear his sister complaining he’s late, so he figures he still has time for a last attempt at fixing the tie. He looks ridiculous, tongue between his teeth as he ties a knot that is definitely wrong, with one end of the tie still long enough to reach his hip. _This is not working._

“Need a hand with that?”

That is _not_ his sister’s voice. Nicky moves his head a bit and reflected in the mirror he sees no other than Yusuf Al-Kaysani, prince of Tunisia, eyes sparkling with amusement and probably a bit of pity. Nicolò’s brain short-circuits, because he didn’t remember Yusuf to be that good-looking. Or, to be more precise: he knows Yusuf is good-looking, but knowing and seeing are two different things. He missed him. Yusuf’s smile in the photos is never as beautiful as his real one.

Yusuf’s wearing a blue tight fitted t-shirt, jeans, there’s a pair of sunglasses dangling from the collar of the t-shirt. They’re commoners clothes, Booker would say to make Lu angry, but Nicolò knows the quality is exceptional and that Yusuf is dressed this way only because he comes straight from the airport. Casual clothes, that’s the word. Yusuf Al-Kaysani manages to make casual clothes look runway worthy.

“Uh, yes.” He admits. “Thank you.”

Yusuf steps closer, that kind smile unchanged since the last time they saw each other, seven months before. Nicky knows he is pathetic, but he’s hyperaware of the way Yusuf’s fingers brush his neck, then the collar of the shirt, then his fingers when he gently takes the tie from Nicky’s hands. Yusuf’s eyes stay fixed on the tie, but Nicky still feels like he’s being analysed.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” Nicky tries very hard not to move. Yusuf’s eyes are brown, warm, they remind Nicky of lazy summer afternoons spent with eyes half-closed, the red-yellow imprint of the sun on his eyelids.

“I am sorry I didn’t attend that dinner. I like our conversations.”

“You like when my sister drags us away to get drunk?” Nicky smiles, but Yusuf shakes his head quickly. No, he’s talking about the occasions where Yusuf and Nicolò ended up hiding somewhere, sharing food and stories and complaints. Nicky feels warm in his chest knowing that Yusuf remembers.

“I like them too.” He concedes. Yusuf steps aside, Nicolò didn’t even realise his tie finally looked alright. He still looks ridiculous compared to his sister and Yusuf, but he’s been told many times that his “brand” doesn’t allow him to wear casual clothes with the exception of “the boat attire”. “The boat attire” is what Booker calls Nicky’s summer standard look. “The lame attire” is the winter version.

Thinking of the devil, Booker steps into the room, a smile ready for Yusuf.

“If it isn’t my favourite Frenchman.” Yusuf says. Booker looks ridiculous with a huge pair of baby blue sunglasses that probably belong to Lucia.

“The only you should ever trust, my friend.” Booker replies smoothly.

Any attempt at making conversation is disrupted by Lu’s orders, coming from the stairs.

“LET’S GO. I ALREADY CALLED SECURITY.”

“Is it just us?” Nicolò asks. Book and Yusuf shake their heads. Why is he the only one who doesn’t know his sister’s plans?

“Lykon is waiting for us, he’s already there.” Lu explains as they get into the car. She makes an effort to look away from everyone’s eyes, but it’s pointless. Booker shakes his head, Yusuf and Nicky exchange a knowing smile. Lu’s crush on Lykon burns with the intensity of a thousand suns since that time Lykon helped Lu walk when she broke her ankle. (Talking about fucking royal cliches. Lu’s saved as Cinderella in both Booker’s and Nicky’s phones.)

They spend the car ride exchanging updates on their lives since their last royal rendezvous. While Nicolò already knows about Lykon, his sister and Book, he listens carefully when Yusuf explains where he’s been and how his classes are the most interesting thing ever. His enthusiasm is heartwarming, even Booker doesn’t dare to make fun of his excitement. But it’s clear he’s tempted when Yusuf says he’s sorry that the holidays already started.

Actually, when Yusuf says he’d like to go back to university, Booker makes subtle retching noises that make Lu hide a smile behind her hand. Children, all of them. Nicolò can’t believe they are the result of the finest education in the world.

“And what about you, Nicky? You’re going to start university in September, right?”

Nicolò is not really used to be involved in conversation like this one, everybody already knows how his life has been planned. It’s not like he had much choice on the matter.

“Yes. Italian literature. Lu here took political science so I don’t have to.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Yusuf nods to Lucia, then the car stops and Booker immediately lowers one of the tinted windows.

“I think we are fine? This is so weird.”

“There’s no one waiting? Nice.” says Lu.

The way they look around every few seconds to check if anyone has followed them is objectively hilarious. Nicolò watches Sebastien and Lu hide behind streetlights like idiots, with the security team moving behind them destroying any chance at subtlety.

“Are they always like this?” Yusuf asks, puzzled, as Booker pretends to be a photographer and Lu poses leaning seductively on a post box.

“Since they started living together, yes. Booker is ten times more idiotic and energetic when Lu’s around.”

“I like it,” Yusuf says “but are you jealous?”

“Of my sister?” Nicky looks at Yusuf, confused. “No, I mean, she deserves to have friends.”

“No, of Booker,” Yusuf opens his mouth again, but seeing Nicky’s confused expression he doesn’t continue the sentence.

Nicky is still trying to figure out why he should be jealous of Booker when his sister makes a show of opening the door for him.

“First, the birthday boy” she says. Nicolò steps in doing his best impression of their father’s impeccable hand wave, the one reserved for people who just did him a special courtesy.

The restaurant is little but posh, with an air of sophisticated history, like every little retrò detail has been chosen carefully. Booker is clearly at home, the waiter sees him and immediately shows them a little private room. Apparently the staff already knows which bottle Booker will want to try first.

“We brought here Andy the last time she visited” Lu explains. Yusuf nods like he knows and recognises the place from Andy’s retelling of her evening. The royal kids (plus Booker, who’s “just” the last in line of a family of powerful French politicians) are like a constellation, some of them are closer than others as a result of geography and, more often, politics and personal preferences of their parents. That’s why Lu, Nicolò and Booker are a trio and Andromache, Yusuf and Lykon are another, with Quynh orbiting around all of them since Andy fell in love with her when she was fifteen.

Lykon comes back from the men’s room a moment later, and the way he takes Lu by the waist, lifting her for a small pirouette, makes Nicolò wonders if Lu actually has a chance. He thinks not, it’s just that Lykon is too nice and looks like he’s flirting with everyone. A bit like Yusuf, who sometimes devotes so much of his time to Nicky that someone could wonder if there’s an interest behind his actions. There’s not, Nicky knows that. Yusuf is just kind and doesn’t want Nicky to feel alienated from the group.

“You look amazing, Lu. Really.” Lykon is saying. Everyone is orbiting around Lykon, waiting for their turn to hug him —Lykon is the best hugger there is—, while Nicky stays behind, choosing one chair near the corner. He looks away from Lykon hugging Booker so hard that the French starts croaking “This is murder, Lykon”, and finds Yusuf looking at him. Nicky smiles, unsure of what to say. Yusuf tentatively smiles back.

The dinner is a blur of good food, incredible wine — _finally_ , Nicky can drink legally—, Booker’s anecdotes that are more lies than truth, Lykon’s stories... Everyone is on their best behaviour, but if Nicky has to be honest, what matters to him the most is the way Yusuf sometimes sends him private smiles and amused looks, as if for every conversation happening, there’s another one secretly going on between them.

Nicolò has his moment to shine when he imitates Booker the night he drank too much and confessed his love to a taxi driver. By the end of the story, even Lykon has tears in his eyes from laughing too hard.

“I am sure that taxi driver was exceptionally good looking,” laughs Yusuf.

“I’d forgotten how good you are at imitating drunk Sebby.” Lu’s smile is benevolent, but “Sebby” doesn’t seem to appreciate.

“Should we talk about that time _you_ got drunk, Nicky dear?”

Booker’s smile has that cruel edge that Nicky never likes, even when it’s not directed at him. Lu doesn’t say anything but smiles in her glass of wine, stalling. Lykon looks at Nicky and Booker both, unsure if it’s best to encourage Booker or swiftly change topic. (See, Lykon’s nice. Nicolò likes Lykon.)

Before Lykon can say anything, Yusuf says: “Why, what happened?”, his hands behind his head, leaning back on the chair. He looks more relaxed than before, but his eyes are sharp. There’s actual interest behind them.

Nicky tries to remember what night Booker is talking about, then it hits him.

“ _I’m not saying that Lykon’s not handsome. He’s hot,”_

_Lu nods vehemently, her short bob moving with it._

_“But Yusuf is... he is just unfair. Every time I see him, ugh,” Nicolò moves his hands in the air, trying to grasp the words he’d need to give justice to the feeling he has when he sees Yusuf._

_“The royal gayness jumps out,” says Booker. They’re all so drunk, it’s embarrassing. Nicolò nods, then proceeds to try —and fail— to explain why Yusuf being shirtless in the latest photos of his trip with Andy is actually a crime and an hazard to Nicky’s health._

Nicky panics a bit.

“Please, no?”

Booker raises his eyebrows behind the blue sunglasses, reappeared soon after the end of the third bottle of wine.

“We’re all friends here,” adds Lykon “we don’t need more embarrassing stories about Nicky, we already saw enough of them.”

It’s a nice save. Nicky promises to tell his sister to marry Lykon because she won’t find a better candidate. Booker is not ready to give up yet, though, it’s clear in the way he’s shakes his head a bit.

Nicolò is resigning to lose what little respect Yusuf still has for him, but Yusuf stands up abruptly, taking his leather jacket with him.

“I want to go for a walk, I ate too much. Nicky, do you want to come with me?”

Everyone is a bit surprised by Yusuf’s words, but no one more than Nicky. He nods, though, and accepts his jacket from Lu’s hands. His sister lets them leave without a word, but she’s frowning a little in a way Nicolò doesn’t know how to interpret.

“See you later!” says Lykon with a smile. Booker only waves, typing on his phone with the other hand, anecdote already forgotten.

Yusuf opens the door for him — he’s always genuinely kind, how long before Nicolò can try to find someone else to crush on?— and Nicolò is surprised by the gust of cold wind that hits his face. It’s colder than he imagined, but Yusuf looks at ease with just his t-shirt, holding the jacket under his arm. Nicolò has a brief vision of him saying he’s cold and Yusuf offering him his jacket. It’s so stupid, such a clear evidence that Nicolò still has a terrible crush for Yusuf —that it never went away— that he lets out a whispered curse.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just... uhm... cold.”

Yusuf nods, they start walking in silence, the wet concrete under their feet reflecting the yellow lights of the streetlights. It rained while they were inside, but if there’s one thing that Nicolò hates is talking about the weather. He prefers the quiet sound of their steps. It’s late, way past midnight on a Wednesday evening; Paris is lazily half empty, there’s a couple walking hand in hand, both women laughing and talking with heads close, they pass by Yusuf and Nicolò without a second glance. It’s nice not being recognised.

Nicolò turns to look at the couple for a moment, wondering how the scene would look with him and another man in their place, but he never liked hypotheticals. He prefers looking discreetly at Yusuf, careful not to stare.

“Thank you for earlier,” Nicolò says.

“Don’t worry. Nobody wanted to hear that story after seeing your face.”

“That bad?” Nicolò smiles.

“You looked terrified. I am sure it wasn’t that embarrassing, though. You’re always worried for things other people don’t even notice.”

”It was a bit embarrassing,” Nicky admits “and I don’t really care what the people will think. I am not that noticeable when compared to my family.”

“That’s complete bullshit. You care, and people do notice you.”

Nicolò hopes Yusuf can’t see how bad Nicolò’s blushing.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said I should be jealous of Booker?”

Yusuf says:”Oh, that,”, and for once it’s Yusuf the one who looks uncomfortable.

“Don’t laugh, but I always thought you had a crush on him.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It was mostly logic!” Yusuf tries to defend himself, “Your sister always jokes that we all have crushes in the group, and you three always spend time together. You laugh at his jokes.”

“Booker—no. Absolutely not. Never Booker.”

“Okay. I was mistaken.”

“Are you smiling?”

Yusuf laughs, turning to look at him.

“I just realised I read many situations wrong in the past. I couldn’t understand how you could like him when you two spend most of your conversations insulting each other.”

“I lost so much money to Booker,” Nicky laughs “he is _not_ my type.”

“But your type is a guy.”

Nicolò knows that Yusuf didn’t mean to bring the conversation to this point. When they’re alone, Yusuf talks and listens, but he never asks questions he’s not sure Nicolò wants to answer. But there’s already been enough awkwardness in this conversation that it feels like they’re past that dynamic. Nicolò doesn’t even feel afraid that one more person knows; he will come out one day, royalty be damned. And he always felt like if there was someone capable of looking at him and seeing more than the prince that the press talks about, that person would be Yusuf.

“Yes.” He looks at Yusuf, but he doesn’t find surprise, sympathetic worry for Nicolo’s future. Just understanding.

“I think the world is ready for more than one queer royal in the world,” says Yusuf “and if it isn’t, I don’t care. We have the right to live our lives as ourselves.”

It starts raining in that moment, like the universe was listening to them speaking and it agrees. A drop of water lands under Yusuf’s eye like a single tear, and Nicolò wants to brush it away, he wants....

Water falls on his thin jacket and his hair, on his eyes. Yusuf looks up with half a curse in his mouth, then he puts on his leather jacket as they look around for cover.

“We should go back.”

They start walking fast, close to the side of the buildings to avoid as much rain as they can. Nicolò doesn’t really want their walk to end, it feels suspended in time, separated from the rest of the evening.

They don’t see the first photographer until the flash catches them off guard. Apparently there’s only so much night walking two princes can afford before someone notices them. Maybe the guy from security that followed them tried to give them a little privacy for as long as he could. Nicky acts on instinct, hiding his face from the cameras behind the jacket, wishing he was wearing one of his hoodies. Yusuf doesn’t even let the other paparazzi —they’re usually in groups, like vultures— take other photos or ask them questions. He takes Nicolò’s hand and starts running in the direction of the restaurant, Nicky stumbling behind, his expensive shoes sliding on the slippery wet sidewalk.

“What are you doing!” Nicky screams. The paparazzi are momentarily confused, but one or two is already chasing them, probably wondering what are they trying to hide. It’s raining so hard that Nicky’s hair is already plastered to his face, his jacket is probably ruined.

“I am supposed to be in Belgium right now! My mother won’t like this!”

Yusuf looks behind them, still holding Nicky’s hand. Nicky has the urge to laugh, because there’s something universal in the fear in Yusuf’s eyes thinking of his mother’s fury when she’ll see the photos. (Yusuf’s mother is scary when she’s angry, even compared to Andy’s father.)

“Where are we going?”

“Uh, my hotel?” Yusuf dodges a dog and the owner with grace, then makes an abrupt turn to the left, Nicolò almost falls on him. He doesn’t know why they’re still holding hands, but a part of his brain is screaming to never ever let go, so there’s that.

They pass the couple from before, who is waiting for the rain to stop under a small plastic umbrella near a bus stop. The girls see them running and one of them whoops, shouts: “BONNE CHANCE!” making Yusuf laugh.

“I think we lost them!” Nicolò says, slowing down their run. They probably already have enough photos, also none of them looks very royal, drenched in water from head to toe. Yusuf’s curls have lost their usual fluffiness, but he still looks amazing in Nicky’s eyes. Actually, Yusuf is so close to Nicky that Nicky finds it difficult to look anywhere else. It may be _a_ _moment_ , but Nicky doesn’t know what to do, and Yusuf looks torn, like he knows exactly but doesn’t like his options. Or maybe this is just in Nicky’s head.

“Maybe we should go back to Lu’s flat.”

Nicolò looks away and breaks the moment.

That run under the rain may be what Nicky remembers the most when he gets home and has the time to think. He replays in his head a million times the way Yusuf took his hand and started running, sure that Nicolò would follow him, Yusuf’s small smile when he offered to walk Nicolò home, after the the rain had stopped. The way they waited for the rain to stop under the small awning of a cafe, miraculously still open, shoulders brushing. Yusuf’s laugh when Nicolò forced him to step into Lu’s flat so that he could change clothes. The way Yusuf looked ridiculous and normal wearing one of Nicolo’s hoodies, a bit too short for him, and how Yusuf’s ruined shoes are probably still on the windowsill of Lu’s room where Nicky left them. Yusuf falling asleep in Nicky’s bed while they’re talking, waiting for Booker and the others to come back. Yusuf shivering a bit while still asleep, and Nicky deciding to cover him with a blanket, trying not to smile like a creepy stalker. Nicolò falling asleep on the sofa and waking up with a text from Yusuf, thanking him for the clothes.

Nicolò realising that if he was trying not to fall in love with Yusuf, he is doing a terrible job at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know more about this AU or others, or just scream about the movie, I have a tumblr, @nicolodigenovas!


	3. Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Yusuf's family, Lu has a life of her own, and Yusuf and Nicky make plans for the future. Ah, and someone we know gets married

##  CHAPTER 2 - _GARDEN_

Yusuf wakes up at 5.57 AM. He needs to get up at 6. Groaning, he spends the next twenty minutes, way past the first, second and third alarm, with his face in his pillow, trying to keep out of his mind all the things he has to do that day. Two meetings, one phone call to his mother, helping Ali with his math homework (without telling mother), maybe studying for the exam he has in three weeks. It’s going to be a long day.

There’s no point in trying to sleep past the fourth alarm. He takes his phone and blinks wearily at the screen, which counts 57 unread messages. Forty-nine are from Quynh, three are from his mother, five are from Nicky. _Five_ messages from Nicky: they’ve come a long way from Malta.

Hayati💙: _Goodmorning! We’re going to the Turin house today. The weather is nice._

_I think Lu wants to tell me something, but I don’t know what. Thoughts?_

_Well, Father has reached the dragon state_.

 _ALARM they’re taking my phone away so I can focus on my_ duties _and_ family time _. Ugh._

_Love you_

Then, silence. Considering that “dragon state” is how Nicky jokingly calls the way his parents get angry, it’s no wonder he stopped texting Yusuf. Yusuf spends a few moments looking at that small “Love you”, for once without proper punctuation, little black letters in a white bubble. He can imagine Nicky hiding his phone under the table to text him before putting the phone away to please his father, Nicky wondering if he should send another text —he’s always careful with written words—, then deciding to type that last “Love you”. He smiles stupidly at the screen. It’s been what, five months since they last saw each other? It feels like more.

Yusuf thinks back at that brief kiss on the balcony, then the ones that followed it, just before Nicky had to go back to Italy with the rest of his family. Hiding behind a column like in a romance novel, Nicky’s skin was cold from the wind and his lips tasted like wine. It was real. The moment is treasured like a dream, worn at the edges like a photo that’s been kept in a wallet for years, folded and unfolded too many times, but it was real. Yusuf misses Nicky. Words are one of Yusuf’s loves, but they’re not enough to distract him from the fact that even if Nicky and him have been together for a while, they see each other too rarely.

He is not worried about Quynh’s messages. Quynh texts like she talks, rapidly, her mind going faster than her mouth, and she likes to update Yusuf on her adventures when he can’t join the rest of the group. She once texted him “HELLOOO” 37 times because she wanted to catch his attention even if she knew he was probably studying. That’s why he puts his phone away and first takes a shower and has breakfast. He is the first one up today, not counting his mother, who always wakes up at dawn. As he finishes his cup of coffee, his sister steps in the room, hair in disarray, a frown of displeasure on her lovely face. Mornings are never kind to the Al-Kaysanis.

“How are you already presentable. It’s too early.” She croaks, standing on her tiptoes to leave a kiss on Yusuf’s cheek. It’s the first morning he’s spent at home since the beginning of the summer, and he knows his presence has been missed.

“Good morning to you, too.” He smiles. He watches with a hidden smile —his sister is very proud, and thinks herself an adult even if she’s just 14— as Emna fills her plate with eggs and a bit of everything that’s been prepared for them this morning. She’s called Wolf by the family because her appetite is voracious and her words biting, but she doesn’t like the name anymore, “it’s not for grownups”. As if Yusuf didn’t have at least twenty nicknames chosen by family and friends.

Quynh and Andy call him Joe, honouring the one time he pretended to be a normal kid took the bus all by himself. Quynh says Joe is the secret alter ego Yusuf uses when he steals from the rich to give money to the poor, and that the bus episode is Yusuf’s greatest achievement.

Before their mother became Queen, a private breakfast like the one they’re having, where Emna can just eat in silence wearing her most comfortable pjs, would have been impossible. But things change, and now they have an area of the palace that’s just for them, the forniture modern enough that Yusuf doesn’t have to worry he’s falling asleep on a XVI century chair. They all try to spend as much time in the “safe zone” as possible, but more often than not they use it only in the early morning.

“Why is Quynh trending on twitter?”

Yusuf looks at his sister and her phone, momentarily confused. She expects him to know what’s going on. He remembers the 49 messages immediately, and a part of him worries, anxiety spiking as he goes to take his phone from his rooms.

As usual, Quynh is not afraid to double-text. He reads the last one, “Lykon says hello btw!!!”, and a part of him relaxes. It was sent past midnight, then Quynh probably went to sleep.

_Joe_

_Joe why do you have a phone if you never answer_

_Joeeeeee_

_If it was Nicky texting you’d be online smh_

_Joe we’re going to do this with or without you_

_But we’re going to do this_

_Lykon’s in_

( _If he’s not, I’ll convince him)_

_Joe I should explain something_

_Yesterday_

_Andy proposed_

_She fucking proposed_

_With a ring and everything_

_She cried don’t tell anyone_

_Joe I am so happy_

_So We’re Doing This_

_Lykon says he can arrange things_

_Andy’s assistant said she’ll help us, I knew I always liked her for a reason_

_Joe I’m going to kidnap my fiancée from her fucking castle_

_Is this my life_

An hour later.

_Andy is HERE she says hello. I guess we can’t wait for you to fly here in the next few hours :(_

_I have to go my FIANCÉE needs to get married asap_

There are a few hours of radio silence, then Quynh was back on the phone.

_Joe we did it_

_I am MARRIED_

_Wait I’ll send pictures_

_[13 photos]_

_Joe I am so happy_

_I am so sorry you’re not here_

_But we needed to do this and I know you’ll understand_

_We’re at my flat btw_

_Andy’s father found out of course. If he asks you anything tell the truth, you’re innocent_

_YUSUF I AM MARRIED_

_TO ANDY_

_Another photo of us and the fucking marriage certificate you absolutely needed:_

_[The photo shows Andy and Quynh, heads close, smiling, sitting on Quynh’s cream sofa, Andy is holding a piece of paper in a way that shows the golden ring on her finger. Quynh is smiling and laughing, she’s wearing a black and red dress Yusuf knows it’s her favourite, Andy is wearing a black tank top and a white blazer. Andy is looking at Quynh with an enamoured expression that betrayes a hint of disbelief. Behind them, a glass wall shows the skyline of a city at night.]_

_We love you._

_Lykon says hi btw!!!_

Yusuf keeps staring at the photo, and he knows he has the most ridiculous expression on his face. A part of him can’t believe this really happened. Another just says it’s a very Quynh and Andy thing, to do things in their own way. They never waited for the world to accept them.

His phone buzzes, it’s a text from Andy herself: _Your move._

He starts laughing. Andy and him always joked — talked, actually, they were always serious underneath the smiles —about how they were going to change the game, gay royals in a world that doesn’t really need royals anymore. Andy told him she didn’t know what she was going to do, but that she knew the right path was the one she’d find with Quynh. “ _My move, your move, one step at a time, Boss_.”

Well, she did it.

“QUYNH GOT MARRIED!” Emna runs into his room, holding her phone like it’s a scroll whose contents she needs to declare to the world.

“ _BREAKING: Princess Andromache Elops With Olympic Champion and Environmental Activist Quynh Ngo. When asked how are they finding the married life, Andromache answered: ‘We’re very happy, fuck off.’_ ” Emna reads, raising her voice until she almost screams the last part. The smile on her face makes Yusuf smile even more. “I can’t believe they did that! I am so happy for Andy, she looks so happy!”

Her sister starts scrolling the photos that accompany the article, one of which features a kiss between Quynh and Andy in front of an old looking building where Yusuf presumes the ceremony took place. He is quite sure the man in the background with his back turned to the camera is Lykon, he recognises the line of the shoulders.

“This is amazing! Quynh is amazing, oh and that one is Lykon, hiding behind a streetlamp, what an idiot.”

She hands him her phone, and indeed Lykon looks like he’s hiding from the cameras as best as he can, behind a streetlight that’s way too thin to cover his muscular figure. Emna zooms on Lykon’s face, sunglasses covering his eyes, and she’s biting her lips like she does when she’s trying not to say too much. Emna’s crush for Lykon is… predictable, it makes Yusuf smile. At least Lu can keep her company. At least it’s not Booker.

Under Emna’s polite requests that suspiciously feel like orders —she’s had good teachers—, he lets her read Quynh’s texts of the day before.

“Andy cried this is so fucking cute.”

“Language.”

“I am uh, trying to be more attuned to the current speech patterns of our people, Yusuf, do try to understand we have to be closer to normal people our age as—“

“Yes, sure.That doesn’t work with me.”

The Al-Kaysanis’ way with words (“Royal bullshitting” in Booker-speak) is notoriously effective. Nicolò said he loves when Yusuf speaks in public, “your competence and eloquence is… well… hot”. Yusuf, for its part, sometimes prefers Nicky’s bluntness, even if he’s not used to it.

Emna smiles at him and Yusuf is glad they haven’t had a reason to fight since she came back. Since they’re all very good with speeches, arguments in their family tend to be difficult, long and, in the worst cases, damaging right where it hurts the most. Emna is a teenager and her tongue is sharper than Yusuf’s will ever be. Nicky says he likes Emna the most of Yusuf’s family because she reminds him of himself at his age. It’s true that Emna threatened to cut her hair and set it on fire more than once, just like Nicky fought the Earrings War, and maybe it’s no coincidence that Yusuf loves both Nicky and his sister with all his heart.

“Ali is still asleep?” He asks, thinking that their brother is probably trying to sleep as much as he can, the eternal battle between Ali and alarms.

“I guess so. I didn’t hear him walking around with the grace of a pachyderm, so he’s probably still asleep.” Emna smiles, happy to make a jab at Ali even if he’s not there to hear it. Yusuf’s phone buzzes again. “Oh, maybe it’s Andy!”

Yusuf and Emna reaction to the name on the screen is the same: a pang of dread and affection, because the queen of Tunisia rarely texts, and when she does it’s because there’s an official matter someone forgot to address. Someone = her kids.

_Come to my office._

“Did you forget a meeting?” Emna asks, eyes wide.

“No? I don’t think so. Also, she always texts like she’s angry. Maybe she’s not.”

“Good luck.” she says, unconvinced “I will go wake up Ali.”

Yusuf hears her light steps on the stairs, then after a few seconds the noise of a door opening. As he leaves the safe-zone, instantly greeted by someone from the staff he doesn’t recognise, he hears Ali’s screams and Emna’s delighted laughter, “LET ME GO, YOU MONSTER.”

He missed being home.

••

His mother’s office is one of the smallest room of that wing, chosen for comfort instead of appearance. It’s still huge, with antique lighting and lacquered wood, but there are personal touches, little details that only Yusuf’s mum, the one who takes the time to call him every day to ask him how he is, could leave. There is always a different book, for example, near the window, where his mother sits on her favourite chair to read during her breaks, savouring natural light like a cat, and at least two plants near the desk. People try to impress Yusuf’s mother by giving her jewels and modern art they don’t understand; if only they knew that a simple plant would make her a thousand times happier. Yusuf grew up in the Office —the only office that really mattered, with a capital O—reading, studying in a corner of the room set for him, while his mother dealt with the problems of a nation. He grew up eavesdropping her conversations, drinking up the way she spoke, the way she smiled, noticing when she decided she was allowed to get angry. People say Yusuf looks like his father, and it’s true they have the same laugh, hair, passion for poetry and art. But Yusuf’s mother is in the way Yusuf speaks and tries to be kind every day.

This doesn’t mean she doesn’t get angry at him, they are still different. They had many arguments about the future, how to change, how they could evolve to keep up with the world. Yusuf wonders if he’s been called to have an argument, so he squares his shoulders before stepping inside the room.

His mother is not behind the desk, but in her favourite spot, looking out to the gardens. The sun is just over the top of the buildings outside the fences that delimit the end of the palace grounds.

“Good morning, mum.” He tries. He is still 70% sure he didn’t do anything wrong. Unless… unless she found out how serious he is about Nicky and she doesn’t like his decisions.

Wait. Maybe this is because Andy and Quynh. Maybe his mother wants to tell him she’ll never allow a situation like that, that Andy’s father’s anger is justified—

“Yusuf, I can hear you panicking. Can you let me speak before you jump to the worst conclusions?” his mother smiles, with the same fond expression she reserves to Yusuf’s father when he does the exact same thing.

“Yes, of course.” he sits in the chair opposite to his mother’s. At least she is not angry.

“I heard Ali’s screams from here. He has to learn he needs to wake up before anyone can find him defenceless.”

“Emna is ruthless,” they share a smile “but we’re here to talk about Andy and Quynh, right?”

His mother’s eyes shine with pride.

“Yes. Could you give them my sincerest congratulations? Not as the queen, as your mum who saw Andy grow up to be the woman she is now. I’m very proud.”

Yusuf is.. surprised.

“Don’t make that face, Yusuf! What did you think, that I would act like Andy’s father? Ah, that old man doesn’t know what’s best for his daughter.” she shakes her head “It’s a pity because he loves Andy and her sisters.”

Yusuf texts Andy: _I’m with mother and she says she’s proud of you. She sends her congratulations_.

Andy, surprisingly, texts back immediately: _Tell her that it means a lot, coming from her. Thank you_.

Yusuf’s mother reads the message and smiles briefly, then her eyes get serious.

“We need to talk about you, now. I realised from Andy’s decision that I don’t want you or any of your siblings to do something like that. When or if you get married, I want to be there, and I want to be able to cry sitting in the front row.” The queen smiles, her entire face softens as she looks at Yusuf trying to hide his surprise.

“I am your mother before I am your queen. Never forget it, ok?” She takes his hand, and maybe they’re both pretending their eyes aren’t teary. (The Al-Kaysaisanis are _soft_.)

“When you came out to me, I told you I’d leave you the time to decide what you were going to do, a plan of action. Now I’m here to listen. What is your plan, my dear?”

_My move, your move, one step at a time, Boss._

Yusuf takes a deep breath.

“Mum, I met someone.”

•••

One day without his phone and Nicky is 99% sure he is going crazy. He is in the gardens, in the area forbidden to tourists, but he can still hear them, walking on the gravel paths, marvelling at the beauty of the place. Nicolò secretly thinks that there are far more beautiful attractions in Italy than the Reggia di Venaria, but maybe he’s too used to it after living in it a few months every year. He tries to look at it from the eyes of a stranger, and he’s a bit surprised of how beautiful it is, now that the renovations his father and the government ordered are finished.

As for every place where Nicky’s ever stayed more than once, Nicky chose a Favourite Spot in it. It’s his way of feeling at home even if it changes. Here, the spot is outside, under a tree whose branches let just enough light pass through the branches, leaving green and yellow patches of light on Nicky’s skin. He’s trying to read, but instead he wonders if Yusuf texted him back. He’s glad he sent that “Love you”, even if a part of him is in constant embarassment of his clumsy declarations to Yusuf, who instead takes every single one of them as if they're Shakespeare worthy.

He hears steps coming, but the only person who could find him there is Lu, and she’s been avoiding him. There’s an unbalance between them after yesterday morning: they both lied to their father at breakfast, saying they were texting Booker, that’s why they were ignoring father’s attempt at making light conversation, but after, Lu refused to tell him who was making her smile at the phone.

“You were texting Yusuf, right?” She’d said, and Nicky nodded, knowing he had a stupid smile on his face.

“And you? It can’t have been Booker, you were smiling like you just won the lottery. That’s your ‘I’m talking with my crush’ smile.”

Lu had looked at him for a moment with an evaluative stare, like she was testing him with her clear blue eyes. Then she’d stayed silent and walked away, leaving Nicky confused about what he’d done wrong.

He suspects something has changed in Lu’s heart from the time where she looked at Lykon like he was the only person on the planet. Nicky’s been told by Yusuf, under an oath of secrecy to never ever talk to his sister about it, that Lykon and his sister were seen talking in private, a year or so after Paris, and that after that day Lu was less enthusiastic about going out with the Andy-Quynh-Lykon trio. But again, they all know each other since birth, theirs is a web of unsaid but known secrets (like Lu’s crush on Lykon or Booker’s initial distaste of the entire group or royals), of immortal friendships, of long awaited loves: they all know each other almost too much. Their parents were never like this.

“Nicooooo,” he hears Lu’s voice getting closer, her tone is light and a bit teasing, like she’s going to tell a joke at his expense.

He pointedly shows her the book, ignoring her. Then he doesn’t hear her coming closer, so he closes it and watches the sun between the branches. It’s the end of summer, but it doesn’t bother him like in previous years. Maybe he’s growing up.

“Look who I found, lost in the gardens!”

Nicky doesn’t like when his sister pretends they didn’t fight. He turns to her, but it’s not Lu the person looking down at him, standing near an oak tree.

“Surpriiiiise!” Lu says.

•••

Yusuf doesn’t like “the Turin house”, like Nicky calls it. He’s been there twice in his whole life, and the first time he was four, so it doesn’t really count. He doesn’t like that it’s unfamiliar and alien, even if at least it’s not a big block filled with marble and gold like some palaces in Sweden and Norway. His opinion is also influenced by the fact that Nicky tells him that he was mostly alone when his family lived there in the past; there’s something sad about the idea of Nicky studying Latin by himself an entire summer because he didn’t have anything else to do. (Now it’s the opposite problem, everyone wants a piece of Nicky.)

Still, he thanks his mother a million times when she lets him fly to Italy. He fidgets the whole trip, staring down at the clouds over the sea and then at the country that Nicky loves so dearly.

He thought more than once of flying this way to Italy, to surprise Nicolò, but a part of him always knew he only risked to create a diplomatic incident, he didn’t want to be confused for a rich, crazy tourist. Now that his visit has been approved, though, it is surprisingly easy to enter the gates and pass through security.

He finds Lu waiting for him in a small room that’s mostly books and very old chairs that look too delicate to sustain the weight of a real person. Yusuf is afraid to touch anything —he learnt the lesson from all the precious forniture he ruined in his childhood games— Lu instead moves with the ease of a habitué, even if she avoided the chairs in favour of a small sofa that reminds Yusuf of a session of psychoanalysis. As soon as she sees Yusuf, she stands up quickly and runs to hug him.

“Yusuuuuf! It’s so great to have you. Nicky will be… well, we must be careful or he’s going to have a heart attack.”

Yusuf laughs and hugs Lu back, she smells like lavender and the dust of the room. She looks happier than usual, even if her smile is politely restrained. It reminds Yusuf of when Ali wants to say something cool that’s happened to him, but he knows it’s going to get him into trouble.

“You look radiant, Lu.”

“You know that radiant is mostly used for pregnant women here, right?”

“No?” He laughs, “I didn’t know. Do you have news for me?”

Lu smiles sharply:”Nah. I think Andy took the prize for Best Surprise of the Year, though. My inexistent pregnancy would take second place.”

“You know about Andy?”

“I am allowed restricted access to my phone, and Andy sent a picture of the ring. She was kinda sweet? She said she’s sorry I couldn’t be there with them. I was surprised, to be honest.”

Yusuf looks at Lu, this time he wonders if her smile is practiced. Nicolò doesn’t try to smile if he doesn’t feel it, he always looks serious, his sister is another kind of political animal.

“You know that Andy likes you, right? Quynh and Lykon, too. And I enjoy your company very much.”

Lu smiles again as she looks out of the windows on one side of the long hallway they’re walking down.

“Yes, but Andy didn’t forgive me for losing hopes with Lykon. She was growing into the idea of Lykon changing his mind and realising he was in love with me.”

Yusuf blinks. So his deductions were correct.

“Lykon told you..?”

“He told me he liked me like a friend. I mean, we all grew up seeing each other every year or so. It’s inevitable that some of our first crushes don’t match. We can’t all be lucky like Nicky.”

Yusuf’s heart does a backflip, storing that tidbit of information about Nicky and first crushes for later.

“I am telling you this so at least someone can stop asking me how is it going with Lykon.” She explains. She sounds a bit tired. “I love him, but I can’t wait for him to change his mind. Not every falling in love is eternal, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about Lykon anymore.”

Somehow, Lu led them to the gardens avoiding all the rooms open to the public and anyone of the staff. It’s a sunny day, with a slight breeze that lessens the stifling hot weather of August mornings.

“I think you did the right thing. I am not sure I would be able to let go of someone that way.”

“Tsk” Lu’s smile is knowing, mocking and fond at the same time. “I know. Nicky’s the same. But I met someone under a new light, and I won’t let the past hold me down.”

Her tone is final. Yusuf is… he is curious, but he doesn’t have the kind of relationship with Lu that allows him to ask for more. Actually, Lu is like Nicky on this: kind and ready to listen to everyone’s problems, but reticent to talk about their own.

“Where is Nicky?” He asks when Lu starts walking on the perfectly cut grass, a bit yellow from the sun. Nicky explained Yusuf that they’re trying not to waste water by not watering every single patch of grass every day, because it’s the kind of little piece of information that Nicky cares about.

“Favourite spot.”

Yusuf is happy that he knows what spot that is. They may not be able to see each other very much, but they text every day and Yusuf is starting to know more of Nicky’s everyday life, just like Nicky now knows about his classes and the problems with Ali’s math homework.

“Nicoooo,” Lu chants, smiling. She signals Yusuf to stay silent. So much for avoiding Nicky’s heart attack.

Yusuf can see Nicolò. There he is, under his favourite tree, a book near him. He looks thinner than Yusuf remembers.

Yusuf takes a moment to look at Nicolò, like he would do before starting a painting. Nicolò’s hair is longer, some strands cover his forehead, and the colour is more blond than brown after two months of summer; he’s wearing the famous silver earrings, one more than Yusuf remembers. He’s sat back on the grass, leaning on his elbows, looking up at the sky. Wearing a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and elegant dark trousers, he looks ready for a modern version of “Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe”.

“Look who I found, lost in the gardens!”

Nicky is barely hiding his annoyance. Yusuf thinks it could be the perfect pose for a photoshoot, Nicky’s frown making him look unapproachable and more handsome than ever. Then, Nicky turns and sees Yusuf.

The transformation is instantaneous, surprise is painted on his face in his wide eyes, in his open lips.

“Surpriiiise.”

Nicky stands up so quickly he almost falls, then Yusuf is met with all the strength of the second heir to the Italian kingdom. Nicolò hugs him like it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to do so again. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow Yusuf understands it all.

“I missed you too.” He says, too softly for Lu to hear.

Lu must be running away as fast as she can, because Nicky doesn’t waste any more time waiting for privacy and kisses him with the desperation of the past five months. Nicky’s lips are a bit chapped, his hands are surprisingly rough, yet the touch is gentle. Yusuf loses tracks of time, he barely registers his back hitting the oak tree. The air is warm, the breeze stopped. It fells like Time is giving them a moment of rest, just for the two of them.

“ _Amore mio_.” Nicolò says, and then regrets it immediately. How can he be so shy in his words, when Yusuf texted him the longest, cheesiest messages in the middle of the night, Yusuf can’t understand. He smiles and kisses Nicky again, cancelling that embarrassed frown.

“My love,” he answers back in Arabic. Nicky’s smile is the sweetest victory.

They sit together under Nicky’s favourite tree. Once he recovers from his surprise, Nicky is exhilarated, talking about all the things he wants to show to Yusuf.

“There’s this place I love in Turin, I hope you can exit the palace because it’s a bit in the open, but we could also stay here! I mean this place is so big, also tourists leave by five today, we could even pretend to be visitors—“

“That sounds amazing. But I wanted to tell you something, there’s a reason for my visit.”

Nicolò turns to look at him, Yusuf mourns the centimetres of lost contact, he loves when Nicky rests his head on Yusuf’s shoulder. (He loves contact, full stop. It was a lovely surprise when he found out Nicky loved it too.)

“Is everything okay? Did something happen, are you engaged?”

“What?”

“Don’t laugh! It was one of the possible bad scenarios of our situation. Maybe Andy’s father finally convinced your mother.”

“Andy married Quynh the day before yesterday, in secret.”

Nicky almost screams.

“SHE WHAT.”

“I think the term is ‘to elope’. Your sister didn’t tell you?”

“She won’t speak to me today, Andy did what? Oh my God, this is amazing! I bet it was Quynh’s idea.”

“Actually, Andy was the one who planned the escape from the castle.”

Nicky laughs, the rare laugh that shakes him and fills Yusuf’s heart with joy.

“Oh, wow. That’s wonderful.”

“Yes, and then I spoke to my mum. About us.” He rushes the last part.

Nicky’s hands is on Yusuf’s.

“You told your mum about us.”

“I told her I want to marry you. I was serious, on the balcony.”

Nicky’s voice is a disbelieving whisper: "I was serious, too.”

Nicky smiles, and Yusuf welcomes the kiss that again tries to tell so much.

“I love you so much. You are so fucking brave and amazing.” Nicky says on Yusuf’s lips.

“It was nothing.”

“It was everything. Your mother is scary.”

“She said she can breach the topic to your parents. But first she wants to know what you think it’s the best course of action.”

Nicky moves to sit in front of Yusuf, even if he doesn’t let go of Yusuf’s hands. Nicky absently touches Yusuf’s rings, the silver band with the royal crest that’s been his since he was born.

“My dad knows I’m gay. Mum… she doesn’t speak about it, but she knows too. I need to tell them first. They’re my family.”

He looks at Yusuf, asking for understanding.

“Yes. Of course. How much time do you need?”

Nicky shakes his head, his tone is resolute: "No time.I can talk to them tonight. Dad is in good spirits today.”

“You’re brave too, you know?”

“Shut up. And kiss me. We have… six hours before you have to leave. Unless you can stay for dinner.”

“I can stay for dinner.” Yusuf smiles at the way Nicky’s face lights up like he just received the best news of his life.

“ _Perfetto_.”

They kiss until Nicky mutters something about public indecency on royal grounds and his scarce self-control. Nicky is on top of him, eyes bright behind the locks of messy hair, lips red from kissing. His movements are not frantic anymore, but his words are hopeful and urgent.

“Can you stay forever?” He asks. It’s their first summer together.

“I’m working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perfetto: perfect  
> Amore mio: my love


	4. Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I forgot to post this... enjoy! Find me on tumblr as @nicolodigenovas etc etc you know the drill. Thank you for the lovely comments!

###  **Chapter 4 - Riptide**

Yusuf wakes up in Paris, in Lu’s flat, in Nicky’s bed. He’s supposed to be in Belgium. He is aware that he’s alone in the bed. For a moment, though, the fog of the early morning still in his brain, he indulges in what would have happened if Nicky had chosen to sleep beside him. Just the thought of waking up in close proximity to Nicky, maybe close enough to feel his skin warm from sleep under his hands, is enough to shake him awake completely. He should have stayed in Belgium. Why did he answer Lu’s text?

_Because it was Nicky’s birthday._

Because a month before it was Nicky’s birthday and Yusuf spent that day of spring with the thought of Nicky in the back of his mind, _It’s his birthday, you should call him_. Because in the end, he hadn’t texted Nicky, even if he could have asked Lu for her brother’s number. Nicky’s birthday had come and gone, like any other day, and Yusuf had wished that things were different.

He finds his clothes folded near his bed, any trace of rain is gone. He knows his shoes are ruined, sitting on the windowsill where Nicky left them, but before he can panic and wonder if he’ll have to call Jack and ask him to buy him a pair of new shoes —maybe he’ll go back to Belgium barefoot, to show remorse for his actions—, he finds a pair of black converse that look almost new. There’s a note on top of them.

_If you wake up before me (I know you have to leave soon): these are mine, but they should fit? They’re basically new so I hope it’s not too weird/gross for you._

_Nicolò_

_P.S. Thank you for yesterday.”_

The fact that Nicky bothered to sign the note, write a post scriptum and use proper punctuation at three at night makes Yusuf smile. He shouldn’t give himself the time to find more things to like about Nicky. _It’s not the right strategy_ , Andy would say.

Nicky was right. The shoes fit —they’re basically the same height now— and Yusuf opens the door, careful not to make noises, dressed and ready to go. He texted Jack and the man, always a Godsend, is waiting for him outside. He is not surprised to find Lu’s bedroom door closed, even if he’s not sure what to make of Booker’s shoes, left on the soft carpet in front of the door, mixed with Lu’s high heels. It’s a peculiar image, the composition —white high heels, worn leather boots, soft early morning light, warm colours for the carpet— strikes him.

Then Yusuf raises his eyes and sees Nicky.

Nicolò is sleeping on the old blue sofa, his face smushed in a white pillow, mouth open. Nicolò covered Yusuf with a blanket, yet he slept without one, wearing a soft grey t-shit and basketball shorts. He fell asleep holding his phone, and on the ground there’s the grey tie Yusuf helped him wear for the dinner. He is also snoring, which makes Yusuf smile. Again, he needs to get out of the flat before he learns too much of the everyday Nicky he never had the chance to know.

He leaves Paris thinking that it’s better this way, that it’s safer being kilometres away from the image of Nicolò under the rain, from Nicolò saying: ‘‘Not Booker, never”. He keeps the note though, in the small pocket at the end of his notebook. And he asks Lu for Nicky’s number.

Nicolò wakes up and at first doesn’t walk to his room. He knows Yusuf is gone: it’s both a relief and a disappointment, because despite the inevitable awkwardness, he would have loved to speak to Yusuf again before he left. At least he doesn’t find the shoes anywhere, nor the note. He moves around the flat silently, opens the window -there are Yusuf’s shoes, left there like they’re looking down the road, waiting for their owner to appear from behind the corner of the street. He hears his sister’s soft voice and Booker’s grumbled response from his sister’s room. If it wasn’t Booker, Nicky would think they were together. Nicky sees them going out of the bedroom at the same time, Booker looking tired but smiling, Lu with her hair everywhere, dark circles under her eyes just like Nicky.

“‘Morning,” croaks Booker in the kitchen a few minutes later. He goes straight to the coffee machine and when he sees that Nicky already made some, something very unusual happens: Booker goes to the corner where Nicky is silently drinking coffee and gives him the most awkward pat on the shoulder, plus a nod of thanks.

“Not a word about…” adds Booker. Nicky is still watching his shoulder where Booker patted him, so he doesn’t have time to look at Booker in the eyes and understand what he’s talking about. Lu steps in and Nicky notices immediately how bad his sister looks. She looks… sad and hungover, a mix he han’t seen since the time Lu wasn’t admitted at her dream university. Booker hands Lu the cup of coffee he’d just prepared without a word.

“So, how was yesterday?” Nicky tries in the silence that follows. Booker and Lu share a synchronised look over their cups of coffee.

“We’re not talking about us,” answers Booker, there’s the shadow of the cruel smile on his face. Nicky sometimes forget that Booker is always and foremost Lu’s, then his. Knowing Booker is just trying to do something for Lu, Nicky doesn’t mind it too much.

“What do you want to know, nothing happened.”

“Did you _want_ something to happen?” retorts Booker, not serious anymore. “Did you look into Yusuf’s eyes and saw the burning love of a dying star? Did you see his smile… wait, Lu, how was Yusuf’s smile, I can’t remember.”

Fuck, Nicky should never get drunk with them ever again. But at least Lu’s smiling, and Nicky is _not_ thinking at how Yusuf is probably at the airport, leaving him. Leaving _France_ , not him.

“…His smile was capable of killing a man for too much kindness.”

“I never said that.”

“You did.”

“The Chianti did, maybe.” Booker snorts.

“Seriously though, Yusuf stood up and basically asked you if you wanted to take a romantic walk with him.”

Nicky can feel his ears getting hot. He always loses ground so quickly against his sister.

“It wasn’t a romantic walk.”

“We’re in Paris. Even this cup of coffee can be romantic if I deem so.” The Frenchman says.

“And you stayed away for so long!”

“It started raining and we didn’t have an umbr—“

The “OOOOH” that leaves Booker’s mouth is so loud that Lu starts laughing right away. “Running under the rain with your crush, great job!”

“I am done with this conversation,” Nicolò announces, hands in the air.

He is barely out of the kitchen when Lu lets out a little scream and somehow Nicky knows it’s about him. He turns.

“What?”

“Prince Al-Kaysani just asked me for your number,” Lu says. She looks up from the phone and her smile is crooked and knowing, so similar to their father’s that Nicky can’t manage to be annoyed. He is more worried about his heart, that threatens to stop right in that moment, and his brain, because the image of Yusuf beside him after the rain had stopped, walking slowly as if he’d wanted to prolong the walk to Lu’s flat as much as possible, is stuck in the forefront of his mind and he doesn’t know how to think of anything else.

Falling in love turns out to be a process of erosion. You have a list of reasons why it’s best to avoid the situation, but they are slowly damaged by small attacks that you don’t even register, like a text message saying: ‘Hello, this is Yusuf, thank you for the shoes’, a smile that replays in dreams like a broken record, another text: ‘Do you think Booker would love this knitted sweater?’, a conversation during a boring dinner: ‘Let’s get away from here, you look like you’re going to fall asleep at any moment’. Yusuf doesn’t conquer. Yusuf makes his way into Nicolò’s life slowly, eroding Nicky’s insecurities and defences until there’s a river where before there was earth, and Nicky can only sit by its banks and accept how the geography of his heart has changed forever.

It’s been five months since Paris, and Nicky is looking at the sea. In his head, he’s thinking of erosion, rivers, the calm power of water winning against stone. He wonders if Yusuf texted him back. Re-reading their text conversation has become a bad habit, because by doing so he relives the emotions, embarrassment, excitement and pure happiness, he felt the first time. He has never been good at texting. It takes him ages to decide how to answer every time.

—the day after Paris—

[10:32] Hello, this is Yusuf, thank you for the shoes.

[10:39] Hi Yusuf! Don’t worry, I’m glad I could help. Are you back in Belgium?

[12:23] Yes. My mother is not happy, but ‘At least it was good press’.

[12:26] They already posted our photos? That was fast. I haven’t seen them.

[12:27] This one is my favourite: [The photo shows Nicolò and Yusuf running in front of the camera, far enough that the two are recognisable only from their clothes and previous photos. They are clearly holding hands, Nicky looks like he’s on the verge of falling face first on the sidewalk. The photo shows the exact moment Yusuf and Nicolò run under the yellow light of a streetlight, there’s a yellow halo of light around them while the rest of the street looks blue and gloomy by comparison.]

[12:33] It is nice.

[12:33] I don’t think you like it.

[12:36] I like it. I just look like I’m one second away from falling.

[12:37] I would never let you fall ;)

—one month later—

(YUSUF)[09:22] Hi Nicky, how are you? I hope you’re enjoying university so far. There’s something wanted to show you.

(NICKY)[09:30] Hi Yusuf, I’m fine, thank you. I like the classes well enough, they’re very interesting, thank you for asking. And you? What did you want to show me?

[09:40] I’m fine! I updated my calendar with all the official events I have to attend, and I found the ones where you should be present too.

And also the others’ plans.

[A photo shows two pages from a notebook filled with calendar tables. Every month is written in a different colour, each box carries different symbols, there’s a small tiger drawn in the bottom left corner.]

[09:42] Oh, that’s nice. When will I see you again then?

[09:43] Your symbol is the mouse. So next month, for Seb’s father reelection party.

[09:46] Do you think he’ll be reelected?

[09:46] I don’t know. Whatever happens, Booker has invited the group for a night in their country house.

[09:52] Why am I a mouse?

[09:53] Ah ahahah, I was wandering if you were going to ask me about that. I can’t answer, I’m sorry.

[09:54] Do I look like a mouse?

[09:55] NO! That’s not the reason ;)

[10:04] Quynh is the bow and arrow, Andy is the bear, Lu is the ring and Booker is the moustache?

Oh and Lykon is the crown. The wolf?

[10:05] Correct! The wolf is my little sister.

[10:06] Emna, right?

[10:06] Yes! Good memory.

[10:06] So I’ll see you in a month. Have a nice day, Yusuf.

[10:08] You too. See you in a month.

—three weeks later—

(YUSUF) [02:00] Do you think Booker will like this?

[The photo shows part of a kingsized bed with white covers, on the bed there are three black pillows and a bright orange knitted sweater. There are blue and white buttons stitched to the sweater, the page of a notebook is visible in a corner of the photo.]

(NICKY)[02:02] What are you trying to achieve with that sweater?

[02:02] That is a very diplomatic answer, Nicky. I expected more sincerity from you. Also why are you awake at 2am on a Wednesday?

[02:03] What is the English expression for ‘says the bull to the donkey’.

Oh, right. ‘Pot meets kettle.’

[02:03] I don’t know why but the fact that you remember how to say donkey before ‘pot, kettle’ is funny.

[02:03] Maybe you should sleep?

[02:03] Not tird

tired

[02:03] Yusuf

[02:03] Nicolò :)

[02:03] …

I like the sweater. It looks cozy. But… I think Booker would never wear it.

[02:03] Perfect. I always give him gifts his father would hate, Book loves it.

[02:05] Wait did you _make_ the sweater?

[02:05] My roommate from uni loves knitting, he taught me. Why?

[02:05] It’s adorable.

I mean it’s also a great skill to have.

[02:05] No, no, you said I’m adorable. I’ll take it. My knitting skills are adorable.

[02:06] You should sleep.

[02:07] I want to add more buttons first. The party is in five days. Plus I’ve been told by some cute guy that I’m adorable.

(YUSUF)[02:14] Nicky?

[02:16] Do you think I’m cute?

[02:17] I think you are beautiful.

[02:20] You are beautiful too. Please go to sleep, you always need to wake up very early and it’s not good for your health.

[02:21] ‘Says the bull to the donkey’

I’ll go to sleep, but you should too.

[02:22] Yes, I know. Goodnight, Yusuf.

[02:22] Goodnight, Nicky.

—a few hours later—

(NICKY) [12:10] Hi, Yusuf! How is it going with the sweater?

(YUSUF) [12:11] Hi Nicky, sorry this isn’t a good time.

[12:11] Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?

If you can’t answer don’t worry.

[12:25] Sorry, I was having a fight with my father.

[12:25] Are you alright?

[12:26] Yes, I just forgot to do something and now my father has to fix the mess I created.

[12:26] Again, you don’t have to answer if you can’t or don’t want to. Is it something serious that you can’t fix?

[12:29] It’s not really important. I promised my mother I’d tell something to my brother and I forgot. The problem is that I keep forgetting stuff and I am a mess.

[12:30] You are not a mess. It’s normal to get confused when you have too many things to do.

[12:32] I just wish I could be more helpful to my parents. Every time I think I’m doing things right, that I’m balancing everything, I realise I completely neglected something and I have to spend my nights trying to catch up.

[12:33] You are one of the kindest and most responsible people I know. You always help your parents, your siblings and your people love you. It’s okay to struggle, sometimes.

[12:33] I know.

[12:36] You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Yusuf. Your family loves you for who you are, they don’t want a perfect robot that obeys their orders. Personally I admire you so much.

My father was impressed by your speech last month, he said you were ‘one of the brightest young men I’ve seen in my entire life’.

I mean, I saw you helping your sister with homework while you were at a charity gala, hiding your phone under the table. You are amazing.

[12:39] I knew you’d seen that.

[12:41]What I’m trying to say is, you are enough.

[12:43]Thank you, Nicky. Really.

[12:45] I’m just saying the truth. I’m always here if you need to talk. I have been told I am a great listener.

[12:45] Is it true?

[12:47] I grew up with Lu and my mother. I perfectly know when to nod and say ‘Mhmh yeah’, and I have a series of one-liners that make me sound very wise.

[12:48] _It’s okay to struggle, sometimes._?

[12:48] That one was genuine! I meant what I wrote.

[12:49] Yes, yes, I know.

[12:50] I have to go. I’ll see you at Booker’s party?

[12:53] Of course. See you there :)

‘’Are you going to stare at the phone for another hour or are you coming down to Earth with us?’’ says a voice he knows very well.

Nicky smiles, he turns to greet Andy with open arms. He loves how Andy lets him hug her for more than a few seconds, her hand on his neck, both of them smiling without needing words. Her long hair covers his view to Booker’s house and the path where he came down a few minutes before. He’d left Booker, Lykon and Lu talking in the garden, preferring to avoid the initial awkward chatter in favour of texting Yusuf, who was expected to arrive three hours before. _Hi Yusuf, are you late?_

Andy is still wearing her jacket and sunglasses, she’s probably just arrived from the airport. She looks tired, but it’s not a surprise when it comes to Andy. She’s the oldest of the group and the one with more responsibilities, the mirror to their futures as soon as they’ll finish their studies. Watching Andy preparing to take her father’s place has always been a source of anxiety for Nicky: it’s difficult for him as a second born to fully realise that successions will happen in the near future.

‘’It’s been so long.’’ he says, the last time he’d seen Andy her hair didn’t reach the shoulders, now she’s back to braiding it. He’s glad he took the time to prepare her present, even if he wasn’t sure she would still be up for the whole charade now that they’re all older. (Maybe not everything has to change.)

“We have time to catch up now.’’ Andy looks at him sideways, she already knows why Nicky is walking quickly to the house.

‘’Tell me you didn’t, Nicky.’’

‘’BOOK, THIS IS A THIRTY.’’ Nicky shouts, alarming Celeste, who is standing by the entrance door typing on her phone. Andy’s personal assistant is the only person Nicky knows who saw the heir of an entire country (Andy) with a huge gash on her arm (Andy is very reckless with knives), losing blood by the second, and still didn’t panic. Celeste once stitched up Andy’s shoulder in the backroom of a pharmacy in secret because Andy didn’t want to get in trouble with her father. Nicolò knows that Andy inspires that kind of loyalty, even in other royals. She will be a great queen.

Booker’s country house is not in the country, it’s by the sea, but Nicky’s knowledge of Booker’s life is foggy, given the fact that Sebastien rarely confides in Nicky: Nicky never knew where it was exactly until Booker started hosting dinners there, by then the name was already stuck in his brain. Book’s life from Nicky’s eyes is a collection of basic wikipedia knowledge and Booker’s complaints said out loud during their outings. Apart from Lu, Nicky knows that Sebastien talks to Yusuf a lot, and before anyone else, Andy was the one who took Booker under her wing when Book was 14 and he’d just been thrown into his father’s world. Now Booker calls Andy ‘Boss’, as a reminder of the time when he followed her around like a confused and weary puppy.

(Sometimes Nicky wonders if it’s okay to love his friends as much as he does.)

Andy follows Nicky at her own pace, looking around with a small smile on her face. In the growing darkness of the evening, she welcomes a gust of wind on her face with a happy sigh. Andy was never meant to be restrained in a castle.

They get to the house to find Lykon, Lu, Booker on the porch, playing a weird version of poker where Lykon has to play blindfolded. The house is small, compared to royal standards, yet they all love it: they know how to appreciate the history behind the stone and the climbing roses, the wooden table where there’s still the S Booker carved when he was six. The house is loved, cluttered, a reminder of the time where Booker’s father didn’t work that much and Booker’s mother was alive. Nicky always loved history and the personal histories of families. He knows what photos are on the shelves in the house. There’s one of Booker at 15, tall and thin, blue eyes sparkling. He has an arm around his mother, who was much shorter than him but with the same hair and smile. That photo makes his heart ache.

Tonight, however, they’re not inside, sitting around the table where Booker learnt to bake with his mother. They’re on the porch, soft yellow lights around them, even if the sun is still barely above the water. The chairs were painted green and blue once, but now they’re bare wood like the table, where someone already left a dozen glasses, one bottle of wine and water. Lykon is laughing, his smile bright as if he can see Booker hiding three cards under his sleeve despite the blindfold. When Nicky arrives and says: “Book, a thirty!”, Lykon immediately takes off the blindfold.

“Andy! I didn’t see you coming.” He stands up to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I saw Nicky by the beach pining.”

“Wait, a thirty?” Booker chimes in, an ace slowly sliding out of his sleeve. Beside him, Lu groans.

“With your money, Nicky, not mine.” she warns her brother.

“Let’s do this.” Andy says, pulling out one of the chair with a grand gesture. On her open palm, Nicky leaves a small rectangle, wrapped in white linen.

Andy is smiling like a kid at Christmas, they all know she enjoys a challenge, especially if it concerns her favourite food. She bites the baklava.

“Mmh,” she _moans_. In that moment, a distant voice arrives to their ears, while everyone is looking at Andy: “WAS THAT MY GIRLFRIEND?”, then, closer, while Andy is still focused on her tasting, “FORNICATING WITH A BAKLAVA?”

Quynh arrives with a sprint in her steps, wearing a white short dress that highlights her thin but muscular frame. Nicky doesn’t waste time and hugs her immediately, answering her “Oh, Nicky!” with a smile of his own.

“Hazelnut.” declares Andy. She acts like she hasn’t noticed Quynh’s arrival, but the two exchange a quick glance, and Quynh’s little smile is a sentence in a language of their own.

“That kind of honey we bought together.”

_Two_ , mouths Booker. Nicky shrugs. He still has a chance, despite what everyone thinks.

“Rosewater.” Andy closes her eyes. “Pomegranate.”

Nicky is now closer to the table, giving his back to the street Quynh came from a moment before. He leans on the table. He bet 30€ on this, and maybe it’s not much, but his pride is on the line too.

After a few seconds of unholy moaning, Andy opens her eyes, and Nicky knows he lost. She sounds almost apologetic, but also profoundly smug, as she says the last ingredient.

Booker howls, Lu scoffs, Lykon says: “I’m sorry man, but you should have seen this coming.”

Quynh, perfectly aware of Nicky in despair next to her, says: “Only a fool would bet against my Andy.”, then kisses her girlfriend, eliciting a surprised laugh from her.

Nicky is still covering his face behind his hands, even if he’s actually half laughing, when he hears again quick step on the gravel behind him, someone running to the house.

“Did I miss it? Tell me I didn’t miss it!”

Nicky turns and there’s Yusuf standing by Andy’s chair, hair longer than in Paris, smile as beautiful as always. There’s a chorus of “Yusuf!” and “Joe!”, Booker says: “I am rich! Nicky lost again!”

The laugh that shakes Yusuf when he hears Booker’s words leaves Nicky breathless. (In his mind, he’s sitting by the river that Yusuf created by being kind and generous and objectively gorgeous. Nicky doesn’t know if he should try to stop the riptide that is trying to bring him far away from the cozy sentimental loneliness of his teenage years.)

Yusuf isn’t looking at Nicky, so Nicky can see he’s wearing a new leather jacket, black trousers with too many zippers on them and combat boots. Yusuf goes instead to face Booker and with a theatrical movement he throws something on the table, right in front of the host.

Nicky already knows what it is, but still in later years he’ll remember that seeing that awful, fuzzy orange sweater was the thing that broke him. Yusuf can’t stop smiling, Booker stares at the sweater with the beginning of a laugh in his eyes, softened only by the way he is also trying not to cry.

“Did you seriously knit me a sweater?” he half laughs “Joe, I was joking.”

“You said you liked orange.”

Booker stands up and hugs Yusuf tightly, but everyone hears his: “Fuck, Joe, it’s horrible. I love it.” anyway.

Lylon claps. Nicky thinks: _Fuck. I’m fucked. I think I love you._

•••

Dinner is agony. Nicky hasn’t spoken to him once after they said hello. Yusuf wanted to tell him that he did want to answer his last text, but he was so late he didn’t have the time: Nicky doesn’t sit beside him, but between Quynh and his sister, too far away to have a solitary conversation.

Booker is wearing the orange sweater, Lykon commented that he looks like an actual orange and now everyone is taking turn at waxing poetry about how awful it is. They love it. Yusuf saw Booker’s face when he admitted that he made the sweater himself and suddenly the hours spent watching knitting youtube tutorials were worth it. And yet, dinner is a form of torture. 

After their texts, Yusuf secretly hoped for a warmer welcome, for a smile, a longer hug, for Nicky to make a reference to one of their conversations. Instead Nicky is focused on his food, only smiles as he drinks wine silently. Yusuf observes him every time he’s sure Nicky is not doing the same. They exchange secret looks like it’s a Jane Austen novel. For the first time in his life, Yusuf uses this expression with a negative connotation.

“You should just talk to him.” Andy says, her tone gentle.

“Andy—“

“I know I told you he’s the worst person to have a crush on,” Andy interrupts him. She watches Nicky with fondness in her eyes, but her words are dry and brutally honest. “But I would be a hypocrite if I told you to walk away now that there’s something.”

“Nothing happened.” Yusuf feels the need to say.

“He has looked at you like you personally painted the sun in the sky since he was sixteen. He asked Lu to switch charity galas because he knew you’ll be at the one in Malta. If you don’t know if there’s something, start asking questions. Great love stories weren’t build only on stolen glances.”

“You had Quynh declaring her crush on national television. We can’t all do that.”

Andy rolls her eyes, but leaves him be for the rest of the dinner. Her and Quynh haven’t seen each other in a while, judging by the way Quynh never leaves Andy’s side, not even when Booker decides to show Andy his last painting in the attic. This leaves Lykon, Lu, Nicky and Yusuf by the table. It’s late, the sky darker than in any city, even if other houses are visible from the porch, creating a chain of yellow lights along the coastline. Yusuf is starting to feel cold as the wind that meets the waves in a calming, rhythmic sound rises. He suppresses a shiver, wishing he’d brought a heavier jacket. It’s just that he remembered that Nicky liked his leather jacket and he had a new one so—yes, he’s pathetic.

He tries to listen to Lykon, who’s talking about his master thesis: apparently university has taken over his life now that the deadline is approaching.

“It’s a nightmare. I feel like I haven’t slept in three months.”

“You’ll be great, Lykon, really.” Lu says, “After that you only need to propose and you’re all set.”

“It’s still too early to talk about marriage! A and I is not a parents approved stuff.” he admits, his cheeks darkening in front of Lu’s enthusiasm.

Yusuf has met Lykon’s girlfriend just once and it’s a testament to how much they love and respect Lykon that no one in the group used their considerable resources to know more about her —not even Booker, who is the only one of them who knows what hacking really means. Yusuf is just glad that Lykon is happy, even if talking about love makes the romantic inside of him want to complain about his own situation.

“Yusuf.” Nicky tells him, just as Joe turns to look at him. Nicky has a dark blue sweatshirt in his hand, and the Italian hands it to him, their hands brushing.

“You’ve been shivering for an hour. And you hands are freezing.” He says. Yusuf takes the swearshirt, still registering the fact that Nicky spoke to him.

“Thank you.”

“Converse, swearshirt, anything else you want?” Nicky smiles. Yusuf, being Yusuf, thinks: “Just you.”

The jersey is large and warm even for Yusuf’s frame, he wonders how Nicky found it. It’s probably custom made, he realises, despite how stupid the idea of a designer sweatshirt is.

“My hands are always freezing.” he says instead. Nicky takes his hand again, his skin warm.

“You really are freezing,” then: “I’m sorry I avoided you all night.”

Yusuf’s eyebrows shoot up, he didn’t expect Nicky to admit that.

“It’s okay, you don’t _have_ to talk to me. We’re a group of people.’’

“I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t mean to ignore you, really. Let’s play one of your games.”

It’s one of the traditions born during boring events —but are they really boring? Without them, they wouldn’t be friends, and they wouldn’t be holding hands with the excuse of sharing body heat for Yusuf’s cold hands. Yusuf is growing grateful for those boring dinners—: Yusuf creates rules for a game that doesn’t really exists, then they add aspects to it until it feels right. Once they decided to walk on one leg for the rest of the evening because they couldn’t touch the ground in a certain way. It never feels lame when they terribly dance together behind long curtains, or when they try to speak with a different accent for an entire dinner (Nicolò’s Deutsch is surprisingly good).

Yusuf thinks about it. He knows Nicky feels bad about something, something that’s not really about the dinner, but he doesn’t know how to ask. He never knows how to make Nicky _say_ things. He always hopes Nicky will meet him halfway, like when it was raining and Nicolò offered him to go to Lu’s flat… but then nothing happens. Before, he thought it was because of Booker, now he just wants to groan in frustration. He thinks of Andy’s words.

“Let’s play 20 questions.”

“Oh.” Nicky blinks. “Is it like truth or dare?”

“It’s me asking you 20 questions, then you do the same to me.”

“That’s simple.” He sounds surprised. “Ok. Any rules you want to add?”

Nicky is nervous. He avoids Yusuf’s eyes, then he realises Lu and Lykon left and his shoulder relax a little.

“Let’s do one question each. And you can’t look at the bushes the whole time.”

Nicky laughs, then he sighs and raises his eyes. He’s blushing.

“The first one who doesn’t answer right away loses.” Nicky retorts. “If you lose, you keep the sweatshirt.”

“That doesn’t make sense. This is great!”

“But blue is your colour.”

“If you lose, you stop waiting 3 minutes before texting back.”

Nicky’s laugh is so abrupt and surprised it is more of a snort.

“What… I—“

“I see you typing for 3 minutes then you send ‘Ok.’, have you any idea how stressful it is for me?” he laughs.

“I never know how to answer! There’s no nuance in texts.” 

“There are emojis.” Yusuf is having way too much fun with this.

“Perfect for a serious conversation.”

“Let’s start easy,” Yusuf concedes. “What is something you always wanted to eat but never tried?”

He knows Nicky, food is one of his safe topics. It takes him a second to answer: “Kebab. Or really any kind of street food.”

“Where would you want to live for a year or so?”

“Somewhere in New Zealand, nobody knows me there. Or Italy would be fine, too.” He adds to make Nicky smile.

“Favourite animal?” “Horses, I guess.” “I like raccoons.”

“Best gift you ever received?” “A drawing my sister made of me becoming King of Cats.”

“When was the last time you felt scared?” “When I took the exam we do at the end of high school, la maturità.”

“Who would you bring on a desert island with you?” “Andy. We’d have each other’s back.”

After a while, they decide that’s it’s just better to share truths, the first things that come to their minds, you just can’t stop for more than a moment to collect your thoughts. It’s Nicky’s idea, because they both know they’re asking the questions they would know how to answer. They’re way past the twentieth question, but no one talks about joining the others inside the house, where everyone is probably getting drunk. Yusuf remembers that it wasn’t always like this, that there was a time when being with Nicky surrounded by others was just fine, that he didn’t feel like he needed to be alone with him for their time together to matter. Now he doesn’t want to go inside. He wants to keep Nicky talking, words flowing as if they’ve known each other for a millennium, as if they already learnt the other’s life by heart. He wants Nicky relaxed in his company, Nicky rolling his eyes because Yusuf remembers something embarrassing about him. He wants more, to put it simply, than just Nicky’s laughter shared with others.

“When I was seven, I told Lykon I could ride a horse, even if it wasn’t true, just because I knew it’d be cool, then he tried to be nice and said we could actually go to the stables, you know, Lykon’s mother loves horses.” Yusuf says. Nicky’s eyes widen in sympathy.

“Oh, no. Did you admit the truth?”

“I kept my face straight until I saw the horse. Then I was so scared that I screamed and ran away. Lykon still remembers it.”

Nicky smiles, his eyes distant as he thinks of something to say. He sits on the chair hugging his knees, refusing to take the sweatshirt back even if now they should really go back inside. Yusuf pokes him in the arm just because he can.

“You’re thinking too much. Do you want to los—“

“I knew Andy was going to guess everything about the baklava, it was the same as two years ago. I wanted Booker to win.” Nicky interrupts him, rushing the words.

Yusuf suspected as much, but it’s not something people would expect from Nicky, who can be very competitive when Booker is the one taunting him on the opposite team.

“That was kind of you.”

“It’s his mum’s birthday tomorrow, and his dad is still in Paris celebrating his re-election.” Nicky shakes his head. “I don’t want him to feel alone again.”

Yusuf exhales a soft “Oh”. He didn’t know about Booker’s mother.

From the house come the sound of a hoard of buffaloes coming down the creaky stairs. They’re probably wondering what happened to the two of them. Yusuf can already imagine Andy’s words: ‘Did you ask?’

He feels the last seconds of life of their bubble ticking away, and with less time his resolution grows bolder.

“The others are coming.” says Nicky, his eyes on the lights in the ground floor. He doesn’t sound happy about it.

“Time for a last truth. Tell me something you want me to know.”

Nicky stands up, there’s Quynh by the door. Yusuf thinks Nicky hasn’t heard him, then Nicky smiles at him. He looks sad, scared even. 

“I have been in love with the same person my whole life. I’m sorry, Yusuf.” 

Yusuf freezes. _I’m sorry_.

Nicky does something Yusuf hasn’t seen him do before: he runs away, doesn’t look back to see if Yusuf follows him inside the house. Yusuf is left standing on the porch, wandering what just happened. Did Nicky know what Yusuf wanted to ask him? 

Pieces fit together in his heart before his mind realises. He closes his eyes, his heart aches like he’s just been kicked in the chest. 

Nicky avoided him all dinner. Asked him to do 20 questions to put him at ease. Nicky said he’s sorry.

Was Yusuf that obvious? Did he bore Nicky with his messages, while Nicky was trying to find a way to tell him that he’s always been interested in someone else? The sweatshirt is probably Nicky trying to be kind like with Booker’s baklava bet. He probably pities him. 

“Fuck.” He says, looking up at the sky. There’s not even the moon there, he feels so far away from home it hurts. 

This is … this is good. This is what he needs to focus on his life, to understand what he really needs to do. It’s so much better this way. Nicky spared him months of useless pining, he didn’t want Yusuf to make a fool of himself. What does Andy know of how Nicky looks at him? They should stop thinking they know each other, they’re just strangers with similar lives that try to feel less alone at official events.

This is good. He just needs to go home now. He takes out the phone, ignores Quynh calling him from inside the house.

“Jack?” He says on the phone. “Jack, can we go home now? I know I told you… but..”

He’s afraid he’s going to cry. Apparently Jack can hear it in his voice, because the answer is immediate: “Of course. No problem. Ten minutes and I’m by the gates. I’ll tell your mother.” 

Jack has known him since he was twelve. Yusuf doesn’t care if he’s pathetic. He can’t go back inside. Booker will understand. He leaves the sweatshirt on the chair, then he walks away. This is the best outcome, he thinks. This is what was supposed to happen. Nicky texts him. Yusuf deletes the messages before he can read them.

[23.56] Yusuf, where are you? It’s cold outside.

Yusuf I’m sorry, I’ll get over it. I don’t want to lose your friendship.

I know it was a stupid way and a bad moment to tell you. I don’t want to ruin your dinner.

I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

Yusuf I really care about us.

Did you leave?

I’m so sorry.

Yusuf I’ll get over it, I promise.


End file.
